fAyGo
by Sollux Capdick
Summary: Equius Zahhak was a hard man to understand. Whether it pertained to the variety of shattered pieces of glass still wet with milk, or the broken bows, and snapped strings littering the entirety of his floor, to others, he was in a class of his own. But at the same time, he felt that he needed to be taught a lesson. Broken in. He just never dreamed it would be the highblood.


Equius Zahhak was a hard man to understand.

Whether it pertained to the variety of shattered pieces of glass still wet with milk, or the broken bows, and snapped strings littering the entirety of his floor, to others, he was in a class of his own.

Adding to this, it could be accurately stated that he had one of the most noble lineages in all of Alternia, which Equius used and flaunted accordingly. He knew he had control over the low and midbloods, and would express his power over others, and desire for control.

However, along with wanting control, he also had a fierce needing to be whipped into a state of contrition. After all, he was a filthy blue-blooded commoner next to the highblood, Makara.

Adding to this fact, what were the lowest of low, the filthiest of the scum at the bottom of the heap doing acquainting themselves with him, let alone attaining morraliegence with the highblood?

Unthinkable, and horrid.

But at the same time, those such as Aradia confused him to no extent. Talking to him like they, in their wildest dreams might be a higher class than him? Disgusting.

But maybe he just knew all along was that he, Equius, was lonely.

And, so, on this very night, was resting his chin comfortably on a large robot's head, arms bent and outstretched over it.

His head lay sideways, the side of it comfortably pressing against his arm, and black hair draped over the steel underneath it. And, he sighed, for life had been all too confusing lately.

Why?

Why, should the infuriating Makara, a highblood follow his commands without question and even to state something as horrid as the idea that the color you bleed wasn't something to pay heed to? That all that matters is friendship?

Ugh. It made him absolutely sick. And he couldn't stand it.

Closing his eyes furiously, Equius gripped his arm in conflicting emotion, and the yellow nails threatened to break skin.

But he rose now, and stepped over his broken bows hurriedly in an attempt to remove his presence from the company of his hive.

And now angered with himself, the Zahhak crouches low, easily breaking free of the containing walls, and shoots into the sky with intensity.

The cool night air wonderfully freezes, stings his pallid gray skin, and black hair swirls around him as he makes it back to solid ground.

And now time flies by as he finds a place, somewhere where trees can be found in either direction as the seemingly crazed troll runs to a faraway place where he does not have to _think_.

He smiles slightly as, at last, air found itself scarce within his lungs, and he collapsed against some random bark-coated backrest, and finally sleep did overcome him, washing around his presence, and pulling him into secure comfort.

The blue blood awoke quite a time after this, to find himself in a somewhat precarious situation. Black eyes adjusting to the new environment through cracked shades, the first thing he noticed was that, like his hive, the troll had a theme of objects scattered across their floor.

Here, it seemed to be some sort of a vile red liquid encased in flashy bottles of a sort, as well as a variety of horns. The room wasn't remarkable in any way; there was a sort of white cooling object in the corner, and a table holding a computer was at another end.

Various other things were noticed in his scanning, but the realization that he was slumped against a wall, hands drawn up uncomfortably above him, was all too overwhelming.

He craned his neck, and shock found him.

At least ten or so of his broken bows were hung above him, pinned there by some sort of a green, hardened substance. The cords from the bows had been expertly tied around his wrists, and coiled around his muscular arms so that they were brought together. Moving his legs slightly, he mumbled a rare curse, seeing his ankles were tied as well.

This would make it so that it would be quite a bit harder to break free, but it would be no impossible task for someone like him.

And here he smiled sadly.

Yes, someone like me...

A loud honking noise startled Equius, and he flinched, head shooting up.

The highblood seemed to have been walking towards him, when he stepped on one of his various horns. His face expression was slightly apologetic.

But here the Zahhak's heart began racing.

_Of course it was the highblood! Who else, with all this red swill and goshdarned horns?_

The clown spoke first.

"Aw, man, Eq, I'm motherfuckin' sorry, bro. I didn't mean to give you such a fuckin' scare."

And here it was again, that horribly vile profanity within such a high-ranking troll.

"U-uh... Highblood... you should no-not hoove, er, have such formality with one such as I, who is honored to be in your very hive? Unthinkable..."

Makara looks blank as his sentence trails off.

But now the flustered Equius becomes bl00 in embarrassment, and the cords around his arms dig in, when the highblood draws closer, and even goes as far as sitting directly on the Zahhak's lap, using the horse-oriented man's bent legs as a backrest, and suddenly Gamzee's legs are around him, straddling his thighs tightly.

From that point, Equius becomes so overwhelmed that he struggles and blushes furiously under the Makara's almost loving, careful touches.

Never had he been touched by another person, let alone by the highblood, and so intimately?

Not even should this have been though of, let alone become such a confusing reality.

Gamzee just smiles at the man's confusion, and keeps playing the game.

Equius has always been fun. Today, finding him sleeping outside of your house was a pleasant surprise, and taking advantage of him today would not be hard. And you had your reasons, as well as knowing exactly what to say to get the equestrian man to calm himself.

Opening a bottle of Faygo lying next to himself, Gamzee, screws a lid off and tilts his head back slightly as he takes a swill.

Equius flinches, and is about to protest when the juggalo cuts him off with a well-reasoned sentence.

"Man, here you go every day, harpin' on about motherfuckin blood colors and class and shit, so when the highblood finally comes to put you in your place, you deny me my motherfuckin needs? Sounds like you've been spewin' a bunch of bullshit to me."

And he looks at Equius, smiling somewhat seductively, and he wraps a tongue around the mouth of the bottle, and sucks on the excess juice coating the outside rim.

The ropes tighten in a wonderfully painful way as he strains and struggles internally.

How cruel!

"Wh-what are you exactly speaking of? Put... me in my place?"

Equius's mouth involuntarily twists into a grateful smile.

"Are you going to kill me... perhaps?"

And Gamzee laughs, then proceeds to take another drink of the delicious red liquid.

Equius looks disgusted.

"Sire, if I may, you should not drink that filt-"

And Gamzee suddenly growls, grips Equius's wrists together tightly, then using the mouth of the bottle to tip open the other's mouth open slightly, he pours the red liquid down his throat, and the man underneath him pulls the ropes taut as he chokes slightly, the thick mixture going down his chin and into his lap.

"That's highblood, motherfucker... not fuckin' sire..."

He pushes the bottle almost angrily into the crimson-choked entrance, and the remainder of it tips over Equius, the bottle dropping into his lap, face dripping, and face blushing in unholy pleasure.

Back is slightly arched, his chest begins heaving slower now.

"Hi-highb-"

But once more he is silenced at the sight of Gamzee opening yet another bottle. Transfixed by the sight of the cap opening, followed by a slight hissing, he draws slightly back as the bottle is tilted towards his face, the painted man smiling, canines exposed.

"So, what do you say, trash? Do you want more, or will it "taint" my blood to have a bit of fun this evenin'?"

And as Equius's eyes dilated, he realized that for once in his life, he had a choice.

A choice to be so pleasured in a way of erotic asphyxiation in which he might never have dreamed of.

And here his heart raced as he made his final decision.

"Highbl-blood, I am at your beck and call. I shall answer, and fulfill any order you wish for me to carry out. I... am... your slave..."

At this, the Makara can't help but break out into a sly grin, because he couldn't have hoped for a better, or more idiotically attached troll than the Zahhak.

And so he wastes no time in brutally assaulting the entrance of Equius's mouth, working the bottle entrance over the inside of his lips slowly, the bottle comes to a halt after a moment, and he orders, "Drink it" before letting the bottle go, and the other's chin tilts back, swigging the Faygo in choked intensity, huffing breaths spraying out red droplets from his mouth in agony.

Gamzee now removes the cracked glasses from the Zahhak, curiously, and examines them momentarily before reaching a hand up and under then under Equius's shirt, running the edge of the glasses slowly up his ribs, and the other shudders under his touch.

Looking up, the clown notices that tears are running back over his slave's face, from the axis of his head. Perching himself so that he has more hight and leverage over the other, Gamzee tilts his head over, and slowly runs a tongue up the trail of tears on Equius's eye, leaving a trail of Faygo excess.

A shuddering moan comes from around the now drained bottle, but it stays in place, and his cracked teeth clamp down on it, mixed emotions stirring in the pit of Equius's stomach, and bound legs scraping the floor to bring the highblood even closer to him.

Gamzee's freezing cold hands reach even further under his shirt, and they finally reach sensitive perked up nipples, and no time is lost as the glasses are brought up to scrape over them, prodding the very tips, and freezing them intensely with the chill that is radiating off of his master's very being.

And scooting forwards, Gamzee receives yet another pleasant surprise for the day.

A multitude of stretch marks on a certain part of his little pet's pants shows that already he has gotten quite excited.

He draws his attention away from the chest of Equius, and instead focuses on the man's lower half. He lowers himself upon the other so that he has no choice but to let his legs fall horizontal with the ground. Gamzee lightly presses a sharp fingernail to the bottom of the bulge, and it twitches as Equius takes in a large breath, and shudders.

Now grinning, he lowers his head and takes the clothed object into a new bottle of opened Faygo, and pushes it, twists it around the tip of the thing, the bulge now being weighted down excruciatingly.

The fabric slowly becomes wet with the seeping red liquid, and it pools down into the insides of Equius's pants.

His shuddering cries of pain cut through the icy, charged air, muffled by the plastic gag.

Gamzee then shifts so that his ass is slightly pressing to Equius's chest, and he works at slowly opening a variety of holes in Equius's pinstriped stockings, and soon they are riddled with multi-sized circles.

And in a few moments the highblood is opening the equestrian's skin as well, working his claws expertly into and out of the flesh in a way that slices short but deep cuts, leaving little blue trickles all over Equius's legs.

Soon another bottle is opened, and is being poured over the cuts, and with a small backwards thrust of his body, the overwhelming sensations just about send Equius over the edge.

But Gamzee turns and hisses, sensing this.

"Not yet. You're not allowed to yet, do you understand me? Now..."

And he grins devilishly as he draws nearer to Equius's face.

Bound arms tremble and head tilts down, questioning as Gamzee reaches his destination.

Equius's horns.

Dumbfounded, the other watches as the highblood slowly lowers his eyelids, and slowly, slowly licks up the bottom of the empty bottle in Equius's mouth. The blue blooded one gives a low purring noise, but it hitches slightly when hands are felt intensely stroking his horns.

A fingernail finds its way to the very center on the inside of his one broken horn, and it is dug in harshly, hitting some sort of a pleasure nerve; Equius shudders, and the empty Faygo bottle finally falls to his lap, where it rolls sideways and bounces slightly off of a wall.

A large inhale is heard, and Equius's chest is instantly racked in shakes as his body bends in on itself, and choking and coughing noises ensue in freedom of the bottle.

Gamzee gives him no time to recover, and licks up his broken horn, Equius squeaking and grinding his teeth.

The clown pulls away, taking in the sight of Equius. He lifts a hand and prods slightly underneath the aggravatingly submissive man's tongue, lifts it, then lets it drop.

In the next moment, another bottle is being picked up, one of the last of the various bottle scattered around them, and thrusts it down ferociously onto Equius's horn so that it is being speared, soda immediately running down into his hair, dripping off the ends.

And with a amused growl, Gamzee reaches down with amazing speed and rips the bottle off of the bulge underneath him, and reaches it up, the last of the liquid splashing onto Equius's face, and he closes his eyes in discomfort as it hits him, looking to the side.

The bottle is cast aside, and Equius, looking down in curiosity, blushes furiously and begins squeaking out a multitude of noises as the bonds on his ankles are broken, and his pants are being slowly slid down his legs to reveal said bulge.

And before anything can be done, the highblood is taking the blue blood's length deep into his throat, hollowing his cheeks around the thing almost experimentally.

Without warning, Equius gasps and squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling in exhilaration.

Drawing it now throat-deep, the highblood coils a tongue seductively around the thing, and slowly drags it out of his mouth, teeth scraping as he goes, then finally it it falls, bouncing slightly and Equius begins to borderline on hysteria when the highblood goes further and further with every passing minute.

For him!

And, why?

Seemingly, no reason!

The ropes tighten around his arms, as Gamzee now takes the discarded bottle from before, and uses it to prod at Equius's entrance, nudging.

It wont fit...!

Just the thought makes Equius unconsciously blush, to his growing horror and sense that the situation is one of extreme unmorality.

And so the cap makes it easily, but the slowly widening plastic is more of a challenge.

How _slowly _it slides in, blue blood leaking out from around it as it stretches and tears the skin back for entrance.

Equius, not able to take the pain that is warping his senses, wiping away any pleasure, begins to flex his muscles against the cords in desperation.

But he loses energy, as Gamzee continues pushing, while again taking up the bulge in his mouth, and lightly toying with it, over and over with his tongue.

And Gamzee stretches back suddenly, reaches for a pair of bottles, one in which he again orders Equius to drink without fail until it is gone.

_Maybe that will taint his blood into submission, the lousy motherfucker._

And the other one, is, in accordance with previous actions, thrust over the bulge beneath him.

Gamzee stares, then satisfied, decides that his work is done.

The highblood takes two slender arms and slowly works his hands up Equius's muscular ones where he finds the other's hands, which he grasps.

The Zahhak's fingers twitch but they do not meet his grip with any force whatsoever, his energy and psyche drained.

Gamzee just sighs, and rests a head back onto the damp shoulder of Equius, head tilted back onto his shoulder, his mouth twisted into a morbidly amused smile.

And he closes his eyes, parts his legs around the Faygo-encased bulge.

And pushing back slightly, the corners of his mouth stretch more as he finds that Equius really is having trouble breathing now.

But, as everything becomes too much for him, Equius finally spits the bottle from his mouth, spraying them both in liquid, and his baritone voice raises to a high-pitched groan, chest inhales suddenly, and he releases his load inside of the plastic bottle still slowly pumping out red swill onto the entirety of his pants.

The colors mix, and little spurts continue until the bottle is stained with his pleasure.

And, the cords snap free as Equius's exhausted arms fall to the ground, useless. His body, useless.

Paralyzed in pain and pleasure.

Humiliation

What he desired.

But that release was what the highblood had been waiting for all this time.

He sat up, taking care to slightly brush the dirtied Faygo bottle with a knee, and the highblood swiftly turned, just couldn't help but break out into honking laughter at the sight that befell him.

Equius Zahhak, slumped against the wall of his hive, completely soaked in sticky red liquid. His hair was still dripping, and pants were thoroughly soaked, splatters over his face, and down his chin as well. His legs each held small pools of the stuff, and his blue blood was mixing into it.

Equius's eyes were misty and his black pupils were slightly tilted back into his head, while his mouth was tilted up into a sort of silly smile, broken teeth visible through the small parting in his lips.

Three empty, discarded Faygo bottles, lying around them. One around Equius's bulge. Another stabbed clear through his horn, about two-thirds empty by this point.

Cords heavily bound around the entirety of his arms, which had fallen to the ground in exaustion, were attached to a multitude of snapped bows around his body.

Through all of this, he had withstood.

Begged for it at the beginning.

But now what was he?

What _was _everyone, in the end?

"Heh. Look at you. Equius Zahhak. Noble lineage, my ass. Look the motherfuck at you. You're motherfucking pathetic. You see? No matter what type of blood you have, you will always be a motherfucking lowblood in my eyes. Motherfucking trash. Who are you to call others gutterbloods, when you, yourself, a so-called highblood are laying on the ground in my hive, coated in red swill and your own releases. You make me motherfucking sick."

And he turned. Left him the motherfuck there.

Not wanting to look upon the repulsive prejudice.

The highblood left me there.

I had never been so confused in my life.

Why did he come to me on this day? And present me with pleasure.

Pleasure, and pain in which I had never known before.

Then call me trash, and leave?

I didn't care. I didn't care anymore.

I knew my place.

I wanted this.

I suppose I was grateful, then.

"Thank you..."

A light blue tear leaks its way down my face, and I can't help but smile in amusement.

**D - - Omg I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to end this. I kind of like it though. Can't make it sappy. Can't make it ****_too _****sad.**

**Eh, anyways. You never see any HS fanfictions set on Alternia anymore.**

**They're all Humanstuck /: Well, I can understand as humanstuck is easier to write.**

**Anyways, I love this pairing and I hope I left you with a feeling of what teh fuck did I just read after completing this~**

**Please review if you get the chance, I do appreciate it!**


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